


Knit Ourselves Together

by Emiline



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Banter, Declarations Of Love, Dimity enjoys annoying Hecate, Enid & Maud & Mildred are in this a little bit, Flirting, Fluff, Holiday Sweaters, I've ignored large swaths of canon as they apply to Miss Mould, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Season/Series 02, a smidge of angst, mostly teacher-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emiline/pseuds/Emiline
Summary: “For the final project for my classes this term, I thought it would be fun for the girls to create a design on a jumper, and since we’ve been covering textile magic this term the older girls can make their jumpers as well as creating the design to go on them.”“Miss Mould,” Hecate drawled. “Cackle’s is an esteemed and venerated institute of education, not an art camp.”A Worst Witch Winter Fluff fic covering the prompts: ugly/silly holiday jumpers & stars, and lightly touching on baking and ice-skating.





	Knit Ourselves Together

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken fanfic writer's prerogative and am ignoring a great deal of season 2 as it regards Miss Mould. (Also, spoilers ahead here if you haven't seen season 2.)
> 
> In this universe Miss Mould is what she appeared to be at the start of canon season 2 - a pretty good teacher whom Hecate does not like overmuch because Hecate doesn't really approve of art classes at Cackle's. No affiliation with Agatha, no trying to steal the founding stone. This story takes place in an alternate season 3 and there is only one tiny reference to the events of season 2. 
> 
> As should be abundantly obvious from the above, I'm borrowing these characters, which are not mine and from whom I make no profit.

“Are there any other topics of discussion?” Ada asked the assembled teachers.

“I have one,” Marigold said. “For the final project for my classes this term, I thought it would be fun for the girls to create a design on a jumper, and since we’ve been covering textile magic this term the older girls can make their jumpers as well as creating the design to go on them.”

“Miss Mould,” Hecate drawled. “Cackle’s is an esteemed and venerated institute of education, not an art camp.”

“And they will be learning and applying a variety of skills in the creation of these jumpers, Miss Hardbroom,” Marigold replied smoothly. “Textile magic, for one, and durability of spells. But there are a wealth of other topics: binding different types of materials together, dyeing potions and spells, recording and binding music to inanimate objects, concept design – which incidentally, Hecate, is applicable to a wide variety of magical practice. I thought it would be a good final project that calls not only on their creativity, but a variety of magical knowledge, as I will require them to use at least three kinds of magic in their designs.”

“That could work out very well indeed,” Gwen said thoughtfully. “There isn’t a great deal the younger students could do in terms of music-making, but the first years could certainly spell a sound onto say, a button, or a thread that can be pulled. And the older girls could do things more complex. In fact,” she continued, clearly warming to the idea, “I could offer extra credit for anyone who wanted to compose her own holiday song to spell to the jumper…”

“A true witch,” Hecate muttered darkly, “should not need extra credit.”

“What about the jumpers for the girls who are not to the level of being able to create their own?” Dimity asked.

“I’ll be making jumpers for them to decorate. I’ve set aside enough time to do it, but I’d certainly appreciate help if anyone is so moved,” she smiled.

“Count me in,” Dimity grinned back. “I’ll even bring some cocoa and festive music.”

Hecate rolled her eyes.

“I think it’s a splendid idea,” Ada said, and Gwen and Algernon nodded their heads.

“Count us in,” Gwen said, curling her fingers around Algernon’s.

Five pairs of eyes turned expectantly towards Hecate.

She sighed. “As long as you promise to keep the music at a tolerable level and within the realms of decorum, I will come.”

“On my honor,” Dimity promised, hand over her heart.

* * *

“I am still not convinced this is a good idea,” Hecate told Ada, frowning down at the light-grey jumper she was constructing. 

There was a burst of laughter from across the room, where Dimity and Marigold had their heads close together.

“I know it’s a little more free-spirited than you are used to, but I think the girls will really enjoy it, and they will still be learning.” Ada pointed out. “Think of it this way: they are learning to apply their magical skills in a creative, out-of-the-box way, and the more time they spend planning their designs, the less time they’ll have to get into other kinds of mischief.”

“I don’t know about that,” Hecate replied darkly. “They might try to practice something that is beyond their skill set, and cause mayhem that way, or they may get into rivalries over designs, or any number of difficulties which we cannot, at the present, foresee.”

“Oh dear,” Gwen’s voice floated over to them. “I forgot the neck.” She held up a pale-blue jumper, perfectly formed in all respects except that it lacked a hole to put one’s head through.

“That’s quite alright my dear, it took me three tries to get the arm length to remain in the proper proportion to the rest of the jumper,” Algernon offered.

“You always learn more from mistakes than getting it right all the time,” Marigold said cheerfully. “And we’ve plenty of time. More cocoa, anyone? I’ve got colour-changing mini-marshmallows if anyone wants them.”

Hecate shuddered.

“Marigold’s quite right you know,” Ada said quietly to Hecate.

“Yes, well if only the students would learn a little faster and a little more from their mistakes.”

Hecate watched out the corner of her eye as Marigold took a sip from a mug, then passed it to Dimity.

“They seem very cozy,” Ada commented. “How many jumpers have we made so far?”

“Twelve.”

“Ah, still a ways to go then.”

“Mmmm,” Hecate agreed. 

“Do you know, Gwen told me she and Algernon plan to travel to the United States over the holiday break? They’re going somewhere in Vermont. One of Algernon’s friends lives there now.”

“That sounds suspiciously uneventful for one of their trips.”

“Well, Algernon’s friend is a metallurgy hobbyist. And he has developed a special type of steel that is particularly good for making model train track that can be charmed to run along the walls and the ceilings.”

“That does sound more like one of Algernon’s friends. Do you have plans for the break yet?”

Ada folded a jumper and put in the pile next to her. “Mother would like me to come visit for a few days of course, so I expect I will do that. I haven’t thought much about the rest of the break. Same old, same old, I suppose. How about you?”

“Actually…my parents are hosting a Yule dinner this year and I was wondering, that is, if you, would you like to come with me? Only you’ve invited me to your mother’s so many times, which is a good thing of course, and I am always happy to see your mother but you’ve never met mine and I know they would like you but only if you’re not busy and-“

“Hecate,” Ada smiled and put a hand on her arm. “Breathe. It’s alright, of course I would be delighted to come to your parents’ Yule dinner.”

“You would? I mean, that’s wonderful. I—thank you, Ada.”

“Don’t you look cozy over there, you two,” Dimity called.

Hecate jumped. Dimity winked at her and then nodded her head towards Gwen and Algernon, who were leaning against each other, creating one jumper between them.

“We are very cozy, thank you,” Algernon replied, smiling.

Dimity turned back to Hecate, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Why don’t we box up the jumpers we have so far?” Marigold said hurriedly, summoning a set of the most vibrantly colored containers Hecate had ever seen in her life. “We should be able to fit ten in each. More than that and the anti-moth spell doesn’t work as effectively.”

“How…colorful,” Hecate blinked, and resisted the urge to shield her eyes.

“Aren’t they?” Marigold replied brightly. “I let one of my classes have a go at them for practice with color blending. It’s quite marvelous, the creativity of young minds not yet set in one way of thinking.”

“Creativity isn’t really HB’s thing,” Dimity said, laughing.

“Nonsense. Creativity is an important component of potions-making, once the basics have been mastered. You may be in a situation where you are unable to obtain a certain ingredient, and you must make do with what you have. But you must know what you are doing, or there can be any number of unintended consequences, most of which are likely to be extraordinarily dangerous.”

“Very well, unstructured creativity isn’t Hecate’s thing.”

Hecate rolled her eyes.

* * *

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this much excitement for a final project,” Dimity said, collapsing into an armchair near the fire and (coincidentally near Marigold), in the staff room. “You’ve done well.”

“Do you really think so?” Marigold looked pleased. “I know a few girls aren’t terribly happy about it and I heard Hecate grumbling about it the other day on the way to dinner, but on the whole the girls seem to be really committed to it.”

“Oh absolutely. And don’t worry about Hecate, she’s not really happy unless she’s got something to grumble about.”

“How are your classes going?”

“Oh, pretty well. They’re having to start using warming charms and I’ve moved the younger girls to indoor activities, but none of them have gotten too squirrelly yet. Biscuit?”

“Oooh, I do love a good shortbread.”

“Try this one,” Dimity suggested, holding out a star-shaped one, “lemon shortbread, made by yours truly.”

“I didn’t know you baked!”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Miss Mould,” Dimity winked, taking a bite out of a frosted biscuit.

“Oh my, this is good,” Marigold breathed. “You’re obviously a witch of many talents.”

The door opened.

“Algie, are you in here?” Gwen stuck her head in. “Have either of you seen Algie lately?”

“Sorry Gwen, he hasn’t been here.”

“That man,” Gwen huffed. “We were supposed to have tea half an hour ago.” She shook her head. “Sorry to have bothered you, dears.”

“You’re never a bother.”

“They’re such a lovely couple,” Marigold sighed. “It’s so nice to see a pair still so in love after all this time. Almost like a fairytale, really.”

“They are very sweet. I couldn’t believe that he’d been here on the grounds the whole time – I’ve no idea what Gwen thought of that. She’s never mentioned it, and I wouldn’t ask her for the world. I think Hecate worried a little about what the girls would think of Gwen and Algie being so open about their relationship, but Ada was confident that it would be fine and so it was.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you. I am going to take my paints outside tonight to capture the stars and I was wondering if you’d like to come along. It’s supposed to be a beautifully clear night.”

“That sounds like fun, I’d love to!”

“Great! It’s a date then. I mean not a date date but…”

“It’s okay. And I wouldn’t mind if it was,” Dimity grinned. 

“Oh! Well then,” Marigold said bravely, “shall we call it a date date?”

“I think that is a splendid idea.”

* * *

“Oh Algie,” Gwen breathed. “Just look at those stars! Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“It is indeed, my dear. Not as beautiful as you, though,” he replied gallantly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Algie,” Gwen giggled. “You old flatterer.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”

“Do you remember that night we danced under the stars?”

“How could I forget?”“Let’s do it again,” Gwen said impulsively. “It’s so lovely out there tonight.”

“My dear, the last time we danced under the stars it was summer. It’s a bit chilly out there now, I imagine.”

“Oh, I know, but we could wear our coats and have a warming charm. It’s too beautiful to stay indoors.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.” He swept a half bow, took her hand, and pressed his lips to the back of it.

* * *

“So how’d you become an art teacher?” Dimity asked as she brushed some blue onto her canvas. “Are your parents artistic?”

Marigold laughed. “Oh yes, although not professionally. One of my mums is an accountant and the other is a librarian. But they both love art and pursue it in their free time. Genevieve – she’s the accountant – does exquisite needlework, and Margaret is an amateur violist. She plays in the pick-up orchestra for the community theatre. They tried to expose me to lots of different art forms growing up, but I didn’t really get serious about it until college. And I really like creating in a communal environment – art should be shared and I really wanted to give kids the kind of support and encouragement my parents gave me. Don’t get me wrong, I love galleries and museums, those are great, but I love seeing the creative process unfolding before me. I love seeing what the kids come up with, I love the connections they make, their progression as they grow more confident and in-tune with their creativity. I really do think that it makes them better witches too. Magic, for all we try to confine it, is a creative process, at its root.”

“That’s great! You’ve obviously found your calling.”

Marigold smiled. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I’m glad you’re here now, at Cackle’s.”

“Me too”.

* * *

“Now, where shall we go, my dear?” Algernon opened the front door for Gwen and ushered her through.

“Perhaps a little closer to the woods, away from the castle a bit.”

“Lead on, dearest.”

They rounded the corner and picked their way along the path until Gwen came to an abrupt halt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dear, we aren’t the only ones who have had this idea,” she whispered, nodding her head slightly to the right, where up ahead, Marigold and Dimity stood in an embrace.

Algernon cast a quick silencing spell and he and Gwen carefully turned and made their way back the way they came.

“Well, my dear,” he said, when they were safely out of range, “dare we try the other side or do you think we will come upon Ada and Hecate?”

“Oh Algie, not that I would wish to intrude upon them of course, but I think we are, alas, in no danger of doing so. There is definitely something there but what that something is,” she shook her head, “I don’t think they’ve quite found their way to each other, not like that.”

“You think not?”

Gwen tucked her hand into his elbow and leaned against him. “I need not say that this is for your ears only, I’m sure, dearest. Hecate is a very private person, my darling, and very fond of and devoted to Ada. We all know that. She’s not as good at hiding her feelings as she thinks she is, especially when you’ve known her thirty years. And she is afraid, my dear. You saw her when we were helping making the jumpers the other day. I think she doesn’t quite believe that Ada could love her back. And Ada won’t say anything, because she doesn’t want to make Hecate uncomfortable.”

“If I did not know full well how damaging the best-intentioned meddling in such situations can be, I would say that I wish there was something we could do for them.”

“Yes, I remember.” Gwen squeezed his arm. “It is an old hurt, past helping now. And you could not have known that you would not be given the time to make amends for it.”

“I am so very, very glad that I found you again, Gwen.”

“As am I glad that I found you.” She reached up and wiped the water away from the corner of his eyes. “There now, dear heart. No more tears. We’re supposed to be going dancing, remember? This seems as good a spot as any.” She pulled out her baton and waved it in a complex pattern around them. There was the sound of an orchestra tuning.

Algernon laughed. “You always do know how to make me laugh.”

There was a brief silence, and the invisible orchestra began to play a waltz.

“Shall we dance, my dear?” Gwen held out her hand.

“Always.”

* * *

Dimity and Marigold drew back from one another, just a little.

“Did you hear something?” 

“No, I don’t think so. Just the usual nighttime noises.”

“Well then, where were we?”

Dimity leaned back in. “Here, I think,” she whispered against Marigold’s lips.

* * *

“Are you making a jumper for yourself, Hecate?” Ada asked as they graded papers together.

“For myself?”

“Yes, don’t you remember Marigold suggesting that we might like to make our own jumpers like the students?”

“Yes, but I didn’t realize that anyone besides her was planning on doing it. I take it you are, then?”

“Yes, of course. And Algernon, Gwen and Dimity are doing it as well. I think even Maria is considering it. You should think about it Hecate, you might enjoy it.”

“All things are possible, although not likely.”

“I imagine many of the jumpers will be rather outlandish – that’s part of the fun, but if that’s what’s holding you back you shouldn’t worry, Hecate. No one will be judging these, and if you’d rather something a little less flashy that’s perfectly fine.”

“I will think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

* * *

“I can’t believe tomorrow is jumper day already!” Enid bounced on the bed.

“I can’t believe I got these snowflakes to stay on my jumper,” Mildred said. 

“I can’t believe they’re relaxing the dress code rules so we can wear the jumpers tomorrow,” Maud said.

“They’d have to,” Enid pointed out. “After all that work we’ve put into them? How are we supposed to enjoy them properly if we can’t wear them? Ooh, and you know what? I heard that the teachers have made jumpers too.”

“No way! All of them?”

Enid nodded. “That’s what I heard.”

“Even Miss Hardbroom?” Maud asked.

“All of them.”

There was a knock on the door, and all three of them jumped.

“Lights out in five minutes, girls,” Miss Drill called.

“Yes, Miss Drill.”

* * *

“I can only hope that they will have gotten all of this-“ Hecate gestured to the excited chatter of the girls examining each other’s jumpers over their breakfast, “out of their system before first period.”

“Didn’t they do a marvelous job?” Marigold beamed.

“Yes, quite. An inspired idea, Marigold."

“And all of you did a lovely job as well,” Marigold added. “Hecate, I’m so glad you decided to join in.”

“Yes, well,” Hecate sniffed, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in her dark blue jumper that had a subtle pattern of cauldrons on it. “In the interest of school unity.”

“Of course,” Marigold nodded.

* * *

The girls crowded around Miss Drill to get a better look at her jumper. A tiny Miss Drill, on a broomstick hovered in a sky that was filled with stars.

“Does your tiny you do anything, Miss Drill?” one of the girls pipped up.

“Oh yes,” Dimity winked. “Miss Hardbroom,” she called “I think you’ll appreciate this.”

Hecate stopped and walked over suspiciously. Dimity waved her hand. The girls gasped as the tiny Dimity started doing loop-de-loops over the front of the jumper. When the tiny Dimity hit the neckline, she turned around and started zooming down the front, and a banner streamed out behind her, reading in small print “THE STAR OF THE SKY”, as fireworks went off behind her.

“Blimey,” breathed another student. “Does your jumper do that Miss Hardbroom?”

“No,” Miss Hardbroom said with finality. “It does not.”

“Not even a little smoke?” Dimity teased.

“I would not want any student to be under the mistaken impression that I was on fire, thank you very much, Miss Drill.”

“Oh, that is splendid,” Marigold clapped her hands. “Well done, Miss Drill.”

Marigold’s own jumper was a happy multitude of colors, that shifted slowly as you stared it. There were bits of ivy wrapped around the sleeves, and tree made of paper on the front. Small birds with real, tiny feathers twittered and fluttered and flew all through the knitting.

“Hecate,” Ada said, coming up to the group, “Might I have a word?”

“Of course.”

“That must be her and Agatha,” Maud mused.

“Why does that seem familiar?” Enid wondered aloud, as she watched the two tiny figures slowly build a two-dimensional snow-castle on Miss Cackle’s light-blue jumper. “Did she tell us a story about a snow-castle once?”

“I…I don’t know.” Maud frowned. “I don’t remember her doing that but you’re right, there is something about it.”

“You look very serious, Young Spellbody,” Miss Bat said. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Miss Bat. Oh! Your jumper is lovely!”

“Why thank you. Would you like to see them dance?”

“Oh, yes please!”

Miss Bat touched her baton to the fabric and the two ice-skaters began to dance to the strains of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. They reached the edge and jumped and landed on the frozen pond on Mr. Rowan-Webb’s jumper.

Maud gasped.

A small chorus of frogs appeared from behind a tree next to the pond and began croaking along with the music.

Mildred’s mouth dropped open.

Mr. Rowan-Web put his arm across Miss Bat’s shoulders and the figures skated across his arm and back down onto her jumper. The two ice-dancers made a bow and froze back into their original positions.

“Wow,” Enid breathed. “That was awesome.”

There was a smattering of applause from the girls gathered around.

The bell rang.

“Time for class girls,” Miss Cackle called out.

* * *

“One cup of cocoa with just a hint of brandy,” Dimity announced, placing the mug next to Marigold and settling next to her on the couch. “Well done, I think today was a smashing success.”

“Thank you. Oh, I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

“Hold out your hand.”

Dimity did so, and three of the birds flew off of Marigold’s jumper, carrying a small piece of paper with their tiny feet.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” Marigold said, taking a sip of her cocoa.

“You’re the star of my sky,” Dimity read aloud. “That’s,” she blinked furiously, “Oh, Marigold.”

“Not too much?” Marigold asked, putting her mug down.

“No, of course not,” Dimity replied. “You lovely, amazing witch. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

“Even better than being named the Star of the Sky?” Marigold teased.

“Well, since being named Star of the Sky,” Dimity amended with a grin.

“You’re having me on.”

“I am,” Dimity confirmed, “but you did leave yourself wide open for that one.” Then she leaned in and kissed Marigold soundly.


End file.
